


The Interview

by FauxFidele



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Eventual Smut, Freddie Lounds is terrible and perfect, Hannibal Season 4, Hannigram - Freeform, M/M, Murder Husbands, Past Molly Graham/Will Graham, Post-Season/Series 03, Will is such an emo child
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-18 23:33:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5947480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FauxFidele/pseuds/FauxFidele
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years after Francis Dollarhyde was murdered and Will Graham fell into the ocean with Dr. Hannibal Lecter, Molly Graham sits down with Freddie Lounds for a tell-all interview.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She stares out through the window, absently watching her son chase the dogs around in the backyard. The biggest one tackles him to the ground, but she doesn’t rush to help him, as she knows it’ll be much more interested in licking him to death than anything else. Yep, he’s being licked to death. She smiles.

The phone rings. She looks at the caller ID, and her face forms a tight line.

“Yes,” she answers.

“Hi Molly,” she says, “It’s Freddie Lounds.”

“I’m _aware_ ,” she says, voice shaking, through gritted teeth.

“Okay, I’ll get right to it. I think it’s time we talk about your son’s _future_ ,” she says, her cryptic words playfully dancing around their true intent.

“Ms. Lounds, is _that_ a threat?” she snaps, raising her voice, her hands trembling as she gripped the phone.

“On the _contrary_ , actually. _It’s an offer_.”

She looks outside again and sees Walter through the panes, fists clenched around the end of a rope toy as one of the dogs drags him across the ground, giggling as he trips and barrel-rolls into the tall grass. He continues to laugh as the dogs proceed to lick his face, checking him one by one to make sure he was okay. He catches a glimpse of his mom watching and smiles, offering a swift wave.

“ _Molly_?”

“Tell me about the offer.” Molly holds back her tears, determined not to let Freddie hear her cry.  


* * *

  
Molly walks into the hotel, and as per her instructions she heads past the front desk, veering right, down a long, cheaply-carpeted hallway, until she reaches the last door on the left. She lingers a moment, absently staring at the mildewy green door, the number 101 displayed in rusted, gold letters. She inhales sharply, taking a deep breath, and enters the room.

 _Yep, there she is_ , Molly thinks, _the Tattle Queen herself._ She manages to swallow the urge to vomit, but is completely unable to force a smile. The best she musters is an acknowledging nod of the head as she walks in.

“Molly, thank you so much for coming today,” she says, like a cat purring around its owner’s legs. Molly says nothing, but meets her eyes with an ambivalent lift of her brows. There are two other people in the conference room – cameramen, setting up a sitting area on the far side – but given its spacious size, it still seems rather private.

Freddie looks incredible, (as always) Molly notes. She’s wearing a tightly-tailored navy suit that hits her in all the right places, accentuating her petite, but feminine figure. Her signature hair has been tamed, with wavy tumbles of red hair falling off her shoulders.

“I must say,” she says, eyeing Molly up and down, “you look fucking _amazing_.” She flashes her a used-car-salesman grin, nodding appreciatively.

Finally Molly manages to smile, huffing out a little bit of a laugh. “Okay, thanks,” she says with a shrug, knowing that Freddie wasn’t being insincere – she _does_ look amazing.

She runs with the dogs nearly every day since he left, going further each day, carving out new and unexplored paths with the pack at her side. She can’t even count the number of times she’s cut her hair since he left, but now it rests just below her shoulders, lighter in color than ever, and softly twisted in curls. She’s wearing a soft yellow dress that she happens to think fits her quite well, tasteful without being drab, and not _please-feel-sorry-for-me_ either. “You, too, of course,” she says.

Freddie shrugs, smiles sideways and says, “Thanks. Let’s do this.”

* * *

 

Will grabs his cup of coffee and sets it down next to his laptop, scooting his chair under the desk as he sits. He yawns lazily, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, as a headline suddenly grabs his attention from a scrolling newsreel on his home page.

He blinks a couple times, trying to focus his eyes and make sure he’s reading it correctly. He swallows a hard gulp as he reads and re-reads.

“ **Former Wife of ‘Murder Husband’ Will Graham Finally Breaks Her Silence** ”

He stares silently, trying to think or move or breathe, but the knots in his stomach won’t allow it and he is utterly paralyzed by dread. Her picture shows up next to the headline, and it’s Molly, but not the Molly he knew. This Molly is changed, transformed, and though her hair is blonder and styled, and her makeup is flawless, Will knows it’s not the physical alterations that make her so different. She’s lovely, but harder somehow.

After staring for who knows how long, he finally musters the courage to open the link. He waits as the embedded video begins to buffer, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. He wipes a hand across his face and realizes he’s actually sweating.

Of course the first person to talk is Freddie Lounds, same snarky, self-righteous tone, rehashing the details of Francis Dollarhyde’s murder, relishing in every opportunity to drop a “murder husbands” reference (since she obviously took the liberty of copyrighting it). Then it cuts to Molly, stoic and composed, but with the same kind smile he fell in love with on full display, and she really _does_ look lovely.

Will startles as he hears a throat clear and jumps in his chair, turning to see Hannibal standing behind him, looking perfectly ambivalent. Suspiciously so.

“Did you know about this?” he asks the older gentleman.

“Yes,” Hannibal answers earnestly.

Will wants to be furious, and he is, but he has to admit that he can understand. “ _Will, your ex-wife’s on the television making international headlines with Freddie Lounds and creating a media circus over your presumed love affair with a criminally deranged murderer who is now your live-in-partner_ ” doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue. So he says nothing. He turns back to the video and starts watching it again.

“Will…” Hannibal says, a litany of unspoken words hanging at the tail of his name.

“ _Don’t_ ,” he growls, low and threatening, and turns to Hannibal, bearing his shoulders, like a wolf defending his fresh prey.

So he doesn’t. Will settles in and watches the interview.


	2. Chapter 2

Molly looks nervous as she shifts around in her seat, feeling slightly confined by the stiff, wooden armrests. _Deep breaths_ , she thinks and exhales slowly.

“Welcome, Molly,” Freddie starts, interview-voice on. “Thank you so much for being here today, sharing your story.”

_Be grateful_ , she reminds herself and nods. “Thank you.”

“I’d like to start with you,” Freddie says, pausing and dressing up with a compassionate smile, “how _are_ you?”

Molly makes herself return the smile. “I’m doing pretty well, Freddie,” she says, ignoring the urge to say something sarcastic.

“That’s great to hear, but tell us a little bit more. What have you been up to in the last two years?” she asks.

“Well,” Molly starts, swallowing hard, “I’ve got a great job, a great family, and we just picked up our pieces and moved on.” _Give them everything, but nothing_ , she thinks.

“Yes, you’ve got a son, who was with you on the night you were attacked. How is Wilbur?” Freddie asks, totally oblivious to the slight.

“Walter,” Molly corrects, much more politely than she’d have liked.

“Yes, Walter. How’s he doing?”

“He’s a great kid, thirteen now. Honor roll. Like I said, we picked up the pieces and decided to move forward with our lives, no looking back.” She offers as close to a genuine smile as she can manage. _NAILED IT_ , she mentally jokes to herself.

“That’s wonderful, Molly,” Freddie says, smiling in return, but then flattens her tone. “I’d like to ask you now about Will Graham.”

Molly can’t help but flinch at the name. She avoids thinking about him at all costs, tucking it away into the back of her mind, locked many layers deep into the corridors of her mind. His name alone starts the unlocking of her memories, colors and smells and touches all swirling around in her head.

“Okay,” she says, with no enthusiasm.

“When did you meet him?” she asks.

“Just over four years ago,” she answers flatly, offering nothing extra.

“Tell us what he was like.”

She looks grim. “He was really smart, attractive. Funny ...” she says, thinking and adding, “mostly he was just … gentle.” Her voice strains a little on the last word and she clears her throat.

Freddie is unconvinced. “That’s hard to believe, Molly. Speaking from my own experience.”

Molly considers answering with a profanity-riddled comeback, but stops herself. She smiles though as if she did. “He was _always_ kind to his family.”

She can’t resist smiling and Molly has the distinct feeling she wants to say something else about it, but she doesn’t. Freddie continues.  
  
“How long were you married?” she asks.

Molly bites her lip nervously, again shifting her legs in the chair. “Just … just over a year.” _Please, PLEASE don’t throw up_ , she begs silently.

“And when did you find out about his past with Hannibal Lecter?”

Her heart stops. She wasn’t quite ready to hear the name, and though she expected it to drop eventually, it still causes the bile to rise into her throat. It takes all her self-control to will it back down.

“He told me vague details,” Molly says. “But I never pressed. I just … I trusted him.”

“ _Oops_ ,” Freddie says, drawing out the word. “Can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Publishing convoluted stories, mostly lies, with no credible sources hardly counts as a _warning_ , Freddie,” she responds, surprisingly calm. “When there are so many half-truths being tossed around, it’s hard to sort through them all.”

Freddie shrugs and concedes an understanding nod. “Yet … I warned everyone in _Tattle Crime_ ,” Freddie presses on, “that they were dangerous, no … _deadly_ , together. Explain to us why you decided to trust him?”

Molly is shaking, her face muscles tight as her whole body stiffens with fear that she may cry if she so much as blinks. “I just _knew him_. Not _about_ him,” she says. She sighs, finally, breathing out. “He was sweet and kind, he loved my son. And he loved _me_.” She straightens up, feeling a little more composed. “He didn’t want to be there, at the F.B.I., Jack Crawford kept dragging him back in.”

Freddie smiles deliciously. “Yes, Jack Crawford,” she says. “We can certainly both agree on that point.” She’s quiet for a moment, reflecting. “Do you think Jack Crawford pushed Will to his breaking point?”

“I know he wouldn’t have fallen off that cliff without the influence of Jack Crawford,” she says, carefully structuring her words. “He certainly didn’t try to protect him, that’s for sure.”

“Speaking of,” Freddie says, jumping on the opportunity, “I presume you have seen the footage from that evening,” she says, lowering her voice to a serious tone.

“Yes,” she replies curtly.

“Was your husband was having an affair with Hannibal Lecter?” she asks, her eyes fixed on Molly with laser-sharp focus.

Molly wants to scream and cry, and maybe even rip her hair out. She steadies on, though, and says, “That’s a complicated question.”

“Well, then help us understand. Tell me how you found out about them,” Freddie says.

She’s frustrated, but knows that if she’s going to get the money for Walter’s school, she has to give them something. “My son brought home an article from school that someone showed to him,” she says. “Your article. The first time you called them ‘ _Murder Husbands_ ,’ I think.” She cringes as she says the words, her eyes glistening, but she desperately tries to keep the tears from spilling over.

Freddie smiles politely, “Yes, I remember. What did you think about that?”

“Will had already left to assist on the Dollarhyde case, when I found out,” she says, and thinks for a brief moment. “I dismissed it initially, but it stayed in the back of my mind. Then the attack happened…” she trails off.

“And your suspicions were confirmed,” Freddie says, finishing her thought.

Molly nods. “I knew it was him.”

“Dollarhyde?” Freddie asks.

“Hannibal Lecter,” she responds. “The articles about him, the rumors. There were lots of clues that I just chose to ignore, I guess.” She wonders why she’s starting to talk so much, and chastises herself but she doesn’t stop.

“What changed after the attack? Did he admit anything to you?” Freddie asks, prodding her to continue.

“I told him he looked different, at the hospital,” she says, eyes empty as she reflects on the memory. “And he did. I could tell, he wasn’t the same man I married anymore.” Her eyes drift to the floor. “He said he was sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Freddie asks.

“I told myself he was sorry for letting us get hurt, getting us involved. But deep down I knew it was more,” she says, voice hollow and tinged with regret. “It was an apology for everything – the rumors, for Dollarhyde, for _marrying me_ – but mostly he was apologizing for _Hannibal_. And I knew.”

“What did you know, Molly?”

She wipes away the dampness from her lashes. _Dammit_ , she thinks. “I knew my husband was gone.”

Freddie looks sincerely compassionate for once in the interview. “I’m sorry, Molly,” she says, and Molly is actually grateful. “Thank you,” she replies.

“Do you think your husband was in love with Hannibal Lecter?” Freddie asks, soft but direct.

Molly’s brows furrow and crinkle as she tries to keep from looking as sad as she feels. “It seems to be the only conclusion one could draw from the evidence,” she says coldly.

Freddie offers a sympathetic smile. “When Mr. Graham was working on the Red Dragon case, he visited Dr. Lecter frequently. The logs I obtained from the F.B.I. showed him visiting at odd hours during the night, twice at 2 A.M.”  
  
Molly frowns, a little tired now. “What’s your question?”

“Do you think the F.B.I. allowed Hannibal Lecter conjugal visits with Will Graham in exchange for information on Francis Dollarhyde?”

She tries not to roll her eyes, but still throws Freddie a blink-and-you-miss-it death stare. “I have no idea,” she says.

“Given what you have seen Jack Crawford and the F.B.I. to be capable of, can you say for certain that your husband and Dr. Lecter were _not_ engaging in sexual relations?” Freddie is on the edge of her seat now, practically drooling as she waits for the answer.

“No,” Molly says, “I can’t say for certain.” Freddie’s nostrils flare at this concession, clearly this is the money shot she was hoping to get.

“Do you think Will Graham survived the fall?” she asks, a bit over-eager.

“It doesn’t matter,” Molly answers. “My husband is dead.”

"If Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter survived somehow, do you think they would have escaped together?"

Molly ponders this for a moment. "Yes," she says simply. "If they're alive, they're together." Saying this aloud makes her unexpectedly sad for some reason, but she tries to push it away.

"Do you think he's dangerous, now, at the side of Hannibal Lecter?" Freddie asks, eyes wide, mouth slightly open.

Molly shivers a bit, from the cold or from the image of Will and Hannibal together, basking in a fresh murder scene. "I can only imagine," she says grimly. And then, softer, "but yes."

“Are you still angry at him?” she asks.

Molly allows a nostalgic smile to form. “I never was angry with him – I loved the man I knew,” she says, almost dreamy as she reflects. Her face turns serious. “I just hated the man that took him away.” Molly knows this was the right answer as Freddie can hardly contain the satisfied smirk that turns up the corners of her mouth.

“You are an _amazing_ woman,” Freddie says, pandering of course, but Molly knows there’s a little admiration behind her words. “We are so _very_ appreciative of your bravery here tonight, Molly.”

_Yeah, yeah_ , she thinks. _Get on with it_.

“One last question for you,” she says. Molly nods.

“If you could talk to Will Graham right now, what would you say if he was listening?” Freddie bites her lip as she waits for the response.

“I wouldn’t,” Molly replies, emotionless.

Freddie's mouth twitches a bit as she tries to hide her disappointment, but she recovers by offering a pearly-white smile. "Thank you, Molly Graham, she says with a nod, approving her dismissal. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couple more chapters planned out, including Will's reaction (and Hannibal's) 
> 
> Love your feedback, if anyone has suggestions! Thank you for reading.


End file.
